


Scream For Me

by LadySlytherin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Autoerotic Asphyxiation, Breathplay, Consensual Violence, Dark!James, M/M, Mute!Scorpius, Rating: NC17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySlytherin/pseuds/LadySlytherin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Sirius Potter hates Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy more than anything.</p><p>At least, that's what he thinks. Until he realizes that he likes hurting Scorpius a little <i>too</i> much. Is it possible there's more there?</p><p>Scorpius has spent most of his life in silence. But James makes him want to laugh; want to cry; want to <i>scream</i>. And he loves the Gryffindor for it.</p><p>Will it be enough?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scream For Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeaka](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/gifts).



> A prize for the lovely yeaka, because she beat me at warring. It ought to have been 100 words long. Somehow, it turned into THIS. But I love it, so all is well. <3
> 
> For anyone who's read my fic, "Perpetua Silencia" - this might seem oddly similar. That's because yeaka loved the James/Scorpius sidebar and so she got her own Mute!Scorpius fic, with James instead of Albus. :D That's where the similarities end, though! I assure you, this Scorpius and this James (and even this Albus) are VERY different!
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ~ LS

 

James Sirius Potter sometimes felt that life was entirely unfair. Such as when he thought about the fact that his almost-older-brother, Teddy Lupin, had never gotten to know his parents, who had died shortly after he was born. Or when he thought about how his Uncle George had lost his twin in battle just _hours_ before the war was over. Or when he thought about everyone who looked so sad at the memorial services that were held at Hogwarts every year in the spring. It just wasn’t right, that one person’s actions could spiral out to cause so much pain to so many people. It just wasn’t _fair_.

 

Other times, James thought that life had its own special way of settling the score…but those times were far less frequent. The biggest one was when James was twelve. It didn’t _happen_ when he was twelve, of course, but he’d been too little to read the papers or understand it when it _did_ happen. He’d been a mere 8 years old, in fact, when the incident occurred. But he was twelve when he first _understood_ it.

 

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy was the son of Draco Malfoy and Astoria Greengrass. And while Astoria had done nothing wrong in her life, Draco certainly had. As had his parents. And in James’ opinion, nothing that any of the three of them – Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa – had done at the end of the war or after it was over, made up for the pain they’d caused other people. No amount of money thrown at charities, or time donated to rebuilding Hogwarts and Hogsmeade, or tips given for catching rogue Death Eaters, made up for the lives lost or the people hurt or the damage done. So James had grown up hating Draco Malfoy, despite having never met the man and despite how his father always quietly stated that Draco had been just a child when the war had happened and deserved to be forgiven, especially after so much time.

 

And when he saw Scorpius, standing beside his little brother during the Sorting, James felt all of that hatred transfer to the little boy. The hatred just grew worse when Scorpius was Sorted into Slytherin just after Albus and the two of them seemed to hit it off right away. The hatred melted into self-righteous smugness, however, when the whispers of the older students – including some of James’ own cousins – made their way to his eager ears. Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy wasn’t normal; he was _mute._

 

Scorpius hadn’t been _born_ that way, though. No, when he was just 7 years old, an anti-Death-Eater group had broken into Malfoy Manor and attacked. Though the Malfoy family had fought them off, a well-aimed curse had severed the young Malfoy heir’s vocal cords. None of the Healers he’d been taken to see had been able to repair them; the boy had been unable to speak since. And while James didn’t think it was right to throw curses at small children, a small part of him felt vindicated by the fact that Draco Malfoy had been made to suffer through damage done to his family…just like all the families who’d been hurt by the Malfoys had.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

James was in his Fourth Year when his hatred of Scorpius grew into a living entity of its own; something that consumed him. Albus brought the little boy home for Christmas and James’ parents fell instantly in love with the petite blonde. Even Lily seemed enamored. Scorpius used a small slate to communicate; he scrawled – in neat and tidy letters – across the slate, with chalk that was charmed to change colors with his mood. Everyone seemed to adore the young boy, who smiled shyly and blushed easily; whose platinum hair fell in a tousled mess into grey eyes that were wide and innocent.

 

But James couldn’t help despising the eerily-silent child who seemed to garner affection _so_ easily. And the more everyone seemed to adore Scorpius, the more James hated him. It grew inside him, building up and coiling around his soul, twisting him up inside. And, as these things often do, one day it twisted too far. And then, James broke.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

James was in his Sixth Year when he finally snapped. Scorpius and Albus had been studying in the library with Rose and Lily and some of their friends. James was sitting with a couple of his own friends at a nearby table, but he wasn’t studying. He was watching Scorpius through narrowed eyes as he grinned affectionately at everyone and jotted things down on his little slate. When Scorpius pushed away from the table and wandered into the stacks, waving off Rose’s company, James swiftly followed him.

 

He followed the younger boy to a secluded area. Then, glancing around to make sure no one was nearby, James grabbed Scorpius by the arm and slammed him against the shelves. Then he pinned the petite boy with an arm across his throat. Scorpius’ silver eyes were wide and confused as he tried to shrink back into the books, away from James. The Gryffindor’s face was twisted into a cruel sneer as he leaned in, his nose practically touching Scorpius’.

 

“You listen to me, you little viper.” James hissed, his hazel eyes narrowed as he pressed his arm tighter to Scorpius’ throat. Scorpius’ hands scrambled against James’ arm, clawing and prying to no avail. “You stay the fuck away from my family, do you understand?”

 

Scorpius was still clawing at James’ arm and he was squirming; writhing against James in a futile attempt to gain the full use of his lungs again. His eyes were wide and he was dragging in shallow, rasping breaths against the pressure of James’ arm. His fingers continued to scrabble against James’ skin, prying uselessly as his vision began to grey. James watched with a strange, dark thrill curling through him as Scorpius struggled and gasped. When the boy’s eyes began to flutter and his hands fell weakly to his sides, James backed off at last. Scorpius collapsed to the floor the instant James was no longer supporting him, his hands cradling his throat as he sucked in huge gulps of air. His eyes were wide and locked fearfully on James’ face. James was startled to realize, as he stared down at the silent Slytherin, that he was aroused.

 

After a long, silent moment, James sneered down at Scorpius and spat angrily . “Stay away from my family, Malfoy. Or else.”

 

James turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Scorpius panting on the floor. He went directly back to his dorm room and sealed himself inside his red-and-gold bed. As he pulled out his still-hard prick and fisted it roughly, he closed his eyes and pictured Scorpius. Pinned to the bookshelves. Scared and struggling to breathe. Writhing against him. Collapsing to the floor. Looking up at him, terrified and trembling.

 

Then James thought of how Scorpius had looked as he’d hovered on the brink of unconsciousness. His head thrown back, James’ arm across his throat. His hands falling limply to his sides. His full pink lips tinged faintly blue and slack as he tried to gasp for air. His eyelashes fluttering as he struggled to stay conscious despite the lack of air.

 

With a low, hoarse groan, James spilled himself over his fist, sticky heat coating his hand and stomach as he slumped into the mattress, utterly spent.

 

As his eyes closed in post-orgasmic bliss, James had only a single thought in his mind. _‘I need more.’_

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Scorpius Malfoy left the library without stopping to explain to any of the Potter/Weasley children or their friends. He didn’t know _how_ to explain what had happened; not in a way that wouldn’t piss off James’ family, especially Albus. For his part, Scorpius wasn’t angry. He hadn’t been surprised, either, when he’d been slammed into the bookshelves. Because while Scorpius had spent his entire life trying to live down the infamy of his last name, James Sirius Potter had spent _his_ whole life trying to live _up_ to his. All three of them, in fact.

 

James was confident, bold, and charming. He was brash, arrogant, and suave. He was a born prankster, a scheming mastermind, and sometimes a bully. He was fiercely protective, deviously clever, and dangerously flippant. Scorpius had been expecting James to threaten him ever since he’d first realized James disliked him, which had been sometime during his First Year. The only thing that was surprising to Scorpius was that it had taken this long for it to happen. He had never imagined James Sirius Potter had that type of control and he’d been waiting for the day the older boy snapped for years.

 

Now that it had finally happened, Scorpius wasn’t quite sure what to do. In the beginning, he’d imagined walking away from Albus Severus Potter and returning to his solitary, friendless existence; the one he’d been just fine with ever since he stopped being able to speak at seven. Children were rarely patient with children who couldn’t speak and play the way they could; at least, that had been Scorpius’ experience. But as time had passed, Scorpius had found other friends as well: Albus, Rose, Lily, Hugo, Lorcan and Lysander Scamander, and various others. And the idea of walking away from them - from _any_ of them - wasn’t something Scorpius was okay with.

 

Scorpius loved Albus. Not romantically, of course, but Scorpius loved him regardless. He also loved Lily and Rose and Hugo and Albus’ parents and Rose’s parents and their grandparents...Scorpius loved them all. He loved them for accepting him; for letting him into their lives and their hearts; for treating him like he was just another person, rather than a cripple. It was lovely to be treated like he wasn’t made of spun-glass; like he wouldn’t shatter if someone spoke too loudly or looked at him askance or disagreed with him.

 

Which was why Scorpius had been madly, passionately in love with James for years. Because James _never_ gave in to him or pretended to be nice. In fact, James was barely civil to him. The eldest Potter child had gotten into trouble for just that on several occasions, in fact. Scorpius didn’t mind, though. He didn’t want James to like him just because he was _‘that poor Malfoy boy’_ like he sometimes worried people did; he wanted James to like him for _him_.

 

Which wasn’t going to happen if James wouldn’t even give him the time of day, but Scorpius had hoped that if he could just prove he had no evil intentions, James would one day come round.

 

Being slammed into a bookcase seemed to contra-indicate that possibility, but Scorpius had learned during his years of silence to watch people for non-vocal cues. He assumed it was because he, himself, didn’t _have_ a tone of voice. And there had been something in James’ eyes as he’d walked away, leaving Scorpius on the floor of the library. Something dark, yes, and angry, as expected...but also something that was almost like curiosity and a little bit like desire. Something Scorpius was hoping he could work with.

 

Because if there was even the slimmest possibility that James could be his, Scorpius was going to do whatever it took to make it happen.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was cold in Scotland in the winter, but Scorpius didn’t mind. The snow muffled everything and he didn’t feel quite so out-of-place in his own silence. He liked the way the cold seeped into everything: his skin and clothes, the walls and floors of the castle, the glass of the windows. Scorpius loved to watch the ice form on the lake, then drift in broken pieces across the surface, like pieces of shattered glass. But most of all, more than anything, Scorpius loved to watch his breath form into a small cloud of mist before him. It was the only time something truly tangible left his mouth anymore and he savored it, small thing though it was.

 

Which was why he was tromping around the edge of the lake, the thin layer of snow coating the ground crunching softly under his feet. Big, fat flakes were falling steadily and Scorpius relished the stinging of his cheeks, nose, and ears as the cold bit into him. He tipped his head back, his hood falling from its place over his hair, and flung his arms wide as he spun in a circle. Snow clung to his hair and lashes, his upturned face a picture of sheer delight as he twirled in the snow. Not for the first time, Scorpius wished he could laugh again; his joy was bright and vibrant and, as always, silent.

 

When he’d first been hurt, Scorpius had struggled to make sounds. To laugh, to sob, to manage some small method of vocalization. But the few times he’d tried, his parents and grandparents had cringed and shushed him. He had soon learned full-silence was better than the crushing disappointment of trying to be heard and understood, and failing. So he did not let loose the laughter tickling his throat; it wouldn’t sound like a laugh anyway, so why bother? No one but him would recognize whatever distorted sound left his lips for what it was, so why break the silence at all?

 

Suddenly, Scorpius was on his back. Flat on his back, in the snow. Which wasn’t surprising, since snow was slippery and spinning made you dizzy, except that Scorpius hadn’t fallen.

 

Scorpius stared up, stunned, at James Sirius Potter. To be honest, he’d been expecting this for the last two weeks. He hadn’t stayed away from Albus, after all, or any of the others. And he’d _known_ James would be furious, but he hadn’t cared. Not in the way James wanted him to, anyway; he wasn’t _afraid._ Instead, he found himself _wanting_ the confrontation, if only so he would have all of James’ considerable intensity focused on him. Even if it _was_ only for a moment or two.

 

James was seated heavily on Scorpius’ hips, glaring down at him. His hands were clenched into fists and he was grinding his teeth together. He looked livid; ready to kill. Scorpius’ heart raced and everything in him tingled and sparked; James was forceful and overwhelming and Scorpius wanted to just beg the older boy. Not to spare him, but to _devour_ him. To kiss him, shove him, _shatter_ him; to do to him whatever James pleased. But since he had no words, Scorpius just stared with wide, silver eyes.

 

James’ lips curled in a snarl and he reached out to fist a hand in platinum blonde hair. He tugged sharply, dragging Scorpius’ head up, out of the snow. Then James froze, mouth falling open in surprise. His fingers went slack and Scorpius’ head landed back on the ground with a soft thud. For his part, it took Scorpius a moment to realize why James had released him; why James looked so utterly stunned. He had _whimpered_ without meaning to. The sound had been high and broken and rusty, like a tin can dragged across asphalt, but it had been clearly audible.

 

James’ hazel eyes narrowed and he hissed furiously. “You can _talk?”_

 

Scorpius pressed his lips firmly together and shook his head almost desperately. His hands scrambled for his slate and chalk, but James slapped at them and spat. “You made a sound. I _heard_ you.”

 

Scorpius bit his lower lip, tears stinging his eyes; a single sound had no bearing on his ability to speak and he knew that. Speech required a vast compilation of sounds that were far beyond him. But he had no way to explain that and, even if he did, he doubted James was willing to listen. So he just lowered his gaze, golden lashes sweeping down to shield his eyes. There was nothing to do now but wait and see what James would do next.

 

James’ fingers curled around Scorpius’ chin, squeezing sharply. His short, blunt nails dug into the tender skin below Scorpius’ jaw as he leaned in, growling dangerously. Scorpius’ mouth opened on a silent sound of pain; it wasn’t one his vocal cords could give voice to, even brokenly. His eyes flew open and he gave James a hurt look, but didn’t fight the Gryffindor at all.

 

Scorpius cringed when James captured one of his wrists and began to squeeze, watching the Slytherin’s face closely. As much as Scorpius tried to fight it, another silent cry left his mouth. He could feel his throat working around the breath of air; it felt sharp and harsh and unpleasant. But no amount of trying could make a sound occur; there were many things his vocal cords just couldn’t do any longer and this was clearly one of them. After a long moment, during which Scorpius writhed helplessly under James, unable to take the feeling of his delicate wrist-bones grinding together in James’ grip without doing _something,_ James finally relaxed his grip.

 

Scorpius turned his face away, ignoring the cold snow melting under his cheek, and his body shuddered as he sobbed. His wrist came up between their bodies, cradled carefully against his chest, and James stared at the reddened skin for a moment, wondering if perhaps it would bruise. The idea of deep purple, vivid blue, and sickly yellow-green painting the pale flesh of Scorpius Malfoy was oddly appealing and James’ eyes lifted to the boy’s angelic face.

 

James almost flinched at the accusing, wounded look Scorpius was giving him. _Almost._ Too much of his mind was focused on the strange, broken sound Scorpius had made before to bother with something as petty as a guilty conscience.

 

He licked his lips and leaned in, hissing softly. “We both know you can make _some_ sounds, so there’s no use pretending you can’t. And I’m going to figure out just what those sounds are, you know. Even if it takes me the rest of the year. I’ll wring them from you, one by one.” James pressed two fingers harshly into the skin of Scorpius’ damaged wrist, ignoring how he flinched, adding. “And I’m going to enjoy it, too.”

 

Scorpius didn’t doubt that; the dark desire flickering in those hazel eyes would have been disconcerting to someone who wasn’t a Malfoy. But Scorpius had grown up in Malfoy Manor, a house still held deep in the shadows of a war long-since-over. He had been brutally attacked and permanently damaged at a horrifically young age. Pain didn’t frighten him any longer, and James Potter didn’t frighten him either. Scorpius’ chin came up in stubborn defiance, refusing to be intimidated by a mere Gryffindor bully, no matter how gorgeous or dangerous he was.

 

James smirked cruelly. “Oh, you’re not going to make this easy on yourself, then?” He purred, looking positively thrilled by this fact. “Lovely. It’ll be so much better when you finally break.”

 

Scorpius swallowed hard, wondering why James hated him the way he seemed to. He almost gave up on the idea of changing his best friend’s brother’s mind, but there was something about the _desire_ etched on James’ face that continued to give him hope. It wasn’t pure or nice or even heated, but it was there. And Scorpius would find a way to exploit it. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, then made a decision. Very slowly, he reached out with his uninjured hand. He touched James’ wrist, very fleetingly, then reached up to touch his own hair.

 

James stared at him in shock for a moment, then rolled his eyes. “Of course. I’d just done _this_...”

 

Without further expounding, James fisted his hand in Scorpius’ hair again, hauling the blonde upright until they were sitting practically chest-to-chest, with James still straddling Scorpius’ lap. Scorpius’ mouth had fallen open, but no sound was made. James growled, shifting his weight in annoyance and setting something fluttering in Scorpius’ stomach as their bodies brushed together. The heat of James’ larger body against his front was a startling contrast to the cold wetness that had seeped into Scorpius’ back while he was lying in the snow beneath James.

 

Scorpius didn’t fight it; his head fell back under the sharp points of pain in his skull, but there was an undercurrent of pleasure to the sensation as well. James tugged again and his mouth opened on a soft, needy whine. The sound had a broken cadence to it; it wavered and cut in and out like a note sung an octave too high, but it was _there._ And even as James let out a victorious little laugh, Scorpius’ body arched helplessly underneath him.

 

 

 

James’ eyes widened as he felt the unmistakable press of Scorpius’ erection against his ass. His laughter - born of pride at having forced that desperate sound from the silent Slytherin - died on his lips. His eyes narrowed again and he pulled Scorpius’ hair harder, watching Scorpius’ face carefully. Pain flickered briefly over haughty, delicate features, then those grey eyes darkened and those plump lips parted on a sound that - distorted or not - was clearly one of _pleasure._ Scorpius’ whole face changed as desire curled through him and he arched up into James again.

 

James sneered, feigning disgust when really he was fighting the urge to shove the smaller teen onto his back and grind against him until he came; until they _both_ came. James’ voice was nasty as he spat. “Are you actually getting off on this? You twisted little shit!”

 

Scorpius’ glared weakly up at James, then slipped his bruised arm down from where it was cradled against his chest to press against James’ groin. An unmistakable hardness met his palm for the barest moment and a triumphant light showed in Scorpius’ eyes. Then James painfully captured his wrist again and dragged his hand away, looking ready to kill. Scorpius struggled futilely against the painful grip, tears stinging the backs of his eyes.

 

James gave one last, harsh squeeze before releasing Scorpius and saying coldly. “No one said you could touch me, Malfoy.”

 

Scorpius just closed his eyes and tried to turn his face away, though the hand still twisted in his hair made that difficult. He didn’t understand James’ motivation, which made James harder to predict. And the harder it was to predict James, the more impossible it became to manipulate him. Scorpius was at a serious disadvantage and he had no idea how to shift the balance. Then, just as suddenly as he’d been pinned, James’ weight was gone.

 

His eyes flying open, Scorpius looked around frantically. James took in the desperation on the blonde’s aristocratic features, an unholy glee coiling in his stomach. He smirked and drawled. “I’m the one calling the shots here, Malfoy. Be sure to remember that.”

 

As he watched James saunter away, still sitting on the frozen ground, wet and shivering from cold now that James’ heat was gone, Scorpius wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to do next. But the sad truth was, James was right. He _was_ calling the shots. And all Scorpius could do was wait. So he did.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Scorpius didn’t tell anyone about his interactions with James. He didn’t see any reason to alarm or upset anyone. He tugged his sweater sleeves down over his hands to hide the bruising on his wrist and made sure not to look at James. He didn’t want his eyes - or his chalk - to give away what he was feeling. He wasn’t sure what might show, but he didn’t want to risk it.

 

So when Albus asked him on Friday (the one a week before Christmas break and almost a full week after the snow-incident) how he was doing, Scorpius studiously kept his eyes on the table in front of him. If he glanced across the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table, Scorpius knew he might break. So instead, he tugged his slate up from where it rested on his chest and wrote.

 

 _‘I’m fine, Al. Just tired.’_ The words gleamed a soft, subtle blue.

 

Al’s mouth twisted. “Tired, huh? Well, I don’t know about that.” He reached out and brushed platinum fringe back from pale skin and silver eyes, then sighed. “You don’t feel feverish, at least. But you’ve got to take better care of yourself. Everyone is worried about you.”

 

Scorpius gave Albus a wan smile and nodded, chasing peas around his plate with his fork as he dropped his eyes again. He didn’t want to worry anyone, but there was no way he was explaining. After a few minutes, he picked up his chalk again and wrote. _‘I’m going to go lie down.’_ This time, the words were a deeper blue that Scorpius wished he could erase; he didn’t like the color.

 

Albus nodded, looking worried. “If you want to talk about it...” Scorpius just waved him off as he stood. Albus opened his mouth to say something else, but Scorpius walked away before he could speak. He just wanted to be alone.

 

Of course, alone wasn’t always an easy thing to do. Especially not when everyone knew who you were and worried about you all of the time. It was funny that the reason Scorpius most-often longed for a voice wasn’t because he wanted to speak, but simply because he wanted to be _normal._ He wanted to be _treated_ like he was normal. Not like he was made of spun sugar or glass; not like his skin was tissue-paper thin and his bones were brittle; not like he could break under the weight of too-harsh a look.

 

So Scorpius knew that going to the Slytherin dorms wasn’t going to do him any good. Classes were over for the day and he’d shortly find himself surrounded by well-meaning friends who would pet his hair and murmur soothingly and offer to fix everything for him like he was a spoiled prince. Sometimes, Scorpius liked those things; he _was_ a Slytherin, after all. And having everyone dote on him was lovely when his nerves were stretched taut at exam-time and he needed some coddling. But most times, he wanted to just shove everyone away and tell them to piss off. He wasn’t a _child_ and he hated being treated like one.

 

He didn’t shove them away, of course, because it would be rude. And he was _never_ that. After all, they just loved him. They wanted to take care of him because they loved him. And he couldn’t fault them for loving him that much; it was far too lovely that they did. So Scorpius put up with the fussing and the coddling and the petting, knowing it was done with the best of intentions. But sometimes, every so often, it got to be too much and Scorpius sought out alternative places to hide. Because really, one teenage boy could only take so much.

 

He’d hidden in the Room of Requirement every now and then, but the Potter-Weasley children understood the room far better than him and could often get in even when he didn’t want them to. Sometimes he walked by the lake, as he had a week ago, but it was out in the open and he was more-likely to be spotted there. And if he was found wandering in the cold, he’d get lectured and coddled even more. It wasn’t worth the risk. So he most-often wandered the castle-proper.

 

Corridors and stairs and classrooms formed a veritable labyrinth for one to lose themselves in. Scorpius knew the school quite well by now and as long as he kept moving, the odds of someone finding him were fairly slim. Scorpius knew which portraits would open if you asked them nicely to reveal hidden passages; he knew which tapestries hid corridors or staircases; he knew which rooms had a second way in-or-out and thus made perfect places to disappear. Scorpius also knew which hallways were dead ends, which stairs had stairs that vanished so you’d get your foot stuck, and which doors weren’t really doors. So he never got trapped when trying to hide from others; Scorpius knew the school too well for that. Sometimes, he thought he knew it better than anyone.

 

So when Scorpius heard footsteps heading towards him, he didn’t panic. He just kept walking until he reached the next tapestry, then slipped behind it and began to calmly climb the stairs. His eyes widened slightly when he heard the footsteps pause, then sound on the stairs as well. He was nearly at the top, though, so he still didn’t panic. He finished climbing, took the left door at the top of the stairs rather than the one in the center, and slipped out of the disused shower room he was in via the door to the hallway.

 

Scorpius shook his head in bemusement, then headed down the corridor. He didn’t mind when he had to evade someone; it tested his knowledge of the school and it’s many twists-and-turns. Scorpius turned a corner and froze; the sound of a door opening and closing behind him meant the person he’d heard had somehow followed him. His eyebrows drew together in vague annoyance and he quickened his steps. Even as he moved, he began writing on his slate. The chalk shone a vibrant pink; he was annoyed, but also exhilarated. He _loved_ a challenge.

 

As Scorpius ducked down a small hallway, he finished writing. He dashed up to a portrait of a stern-looking woman and held up the slate, looking pleading. _‘I am afraid and need to hide. Please, let me in?’_

 

The woman’s countenance softened instantly and she nodded. “Of course, darling. Come in.”

 

She swung wide and Scorpius scrambled into the room she hid. It had taken him _months_ to convince her to let him in the first time and she still sometimes refused him. It was all in the wording of his request to enter, he’d discovered. He was grateful it had worked today, and on the first try as well. The portrait swung shut behind him and Scorpius couldn’t keep the smug grin off his face. He thought this room had once been a teacher’s quarters since it had a bed, a small sitting area, and a bathroom. It was old-fashioned and dirty, but Scorpius knew the proper spells to vanish the dust. He just didn’t bother.

 

Ignoring the cloud of dust it caused, Scorpius dropped down heavily onto the sofa. He lazily waved his hand in front of his face, dispelling the dust, then sighed silently. He let his head fall back, resting it on the still-plush cushioning of the sofa’s back, closing his eyes. Scorpius didn’t mind the dust in the room, or the silence, or the way the windows were covered in a layer of grime that kept most of the sunlight out. He liked how peaceful it was; he liked that no one would bother him here.

 

When the portrait suddenly opened and shut, Scorpius stiffened. There was no way he’d been followed; no way someone had gotten in. It just wasn’t possible. The low, angry growl of a voice behind him had him squeezing his eyes shut even tighter. “Colloportus! Cave Inimicum!”

 

Well, that was one hell of a locking spell combination. Scorpius wondered if he could break through them to get out, then decided he didn’t want to. This had been brewing for far too long. And if James was going to track him down in hidden places, then Scorpius didn’t see any reason to keep running. So he didn’t even bother opening his eyes, or turning around. Instead, Scorpius stayed just where he was and waited.

 

James’ low, furious voice sounded from right in front of him. “Hiding from me, Malfoy? Should’ve known you were a coward!”

 

Scorpius opened his eyes and shook his head slowly, his face blank. Then he began to write on his slate, holding it up for James to see the blue lettering. _‘Not hiding from you. Hiding from everyone else. How did you find me?’_

 

James smirked and waved a battered piece of parchment. “Just a little family secret for tracking within Hogwarts, Malfoy. Nothing to worry your pretty little head about.”

 

The sneering edge to James’ voice didn’t lessen the flush of pleasure Scorpius felt at being called ‘pretty’ by the Gryffindor. Scorpius licked his lips, his breath quickening, and scrawled new words across his slate; this time they were a bright pink. _‘Hurt me.’_

James’ body jerked as though he’d been given a small electrical shock; confusion washed over his face. “What are you on about, Malfoy?”

 

Scorpius sighed silently and scrawled more words. _‘We both know you want to.’_ The letters shimmered from pink at the start to a deep red at the end; his annoyance was starting to outweigh the excitement and anticipation he was feeling.

 

James snorted, disbelief clear on his face. His voice was harsh and angry. “Oh and you’re just going to let me? Why? So you can get me expelled?”

 

 _‘Didn’t tell the last two times.’_ Scorpius wrote, adding a pointed look as he turned the slate around again so James could see his new words. _‘Why would I tell now?’_

 

James hesitated, moving a step closer; dark desire was flickering to life in his eyes, but he was still in control for the moment. “Why? Why aren’t you...doing something? To stop me?”

 

Scorpius pursed his lips, then wrote again. The words were still a dark, wet-looking red. _‘We both know you’re going to do it. So just do it already. The waiting is driving me insane.’_

 

James stopped hesitating. His golden-green eyes narrowed and he snapped. “Stand up.”

 

Scorpius slipped the slate’s chain over his head and set it aside; he didn’t want it to get broken. He stood and raised his chin, defiantly locking eyes with James. James reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over Scorpius’ cheek. Scorpius’ eyes widened, then darkened, and James stroked his cheek again. Scorpius wasn’t sure what to do, so he followed his instincts. He turned his head slightly and nuzzled against James’ hand, savoring the warmth of James’ skin against his.

 

Sharp pain shot through his skull as James’ other hand clenched in his hair and jerked his head back, bringing Scorpius back to the reality of James’ hatred. His breath left his mouth in a silent sob as James backhanded him; his head snapped to the side, painfully pulling against the hand still tangled in his hair. He raised wide, mercurial eyes to James’ hazel ones, then licked his lower lip. He could feel it swelling on the right side; the same side where his cheek was throbbing. His throat worked as he swallowed hard against the dark pleasure on James’ handsome face.

 

James’ tightened his grip on Scorpius’ hair, yanking the smaller boy closer and hissing. “You think you’re so special, don’t you? Poor little baby Malfoy, can’t talk...needs everyone to coddle him.”

 

Scorpius shook his head almost desperately, but James just wrapped his other hand around Scorpius’ throat and gave a threatening squeeze. Scorpius stilled and James snarled. “You won’t get special treatment from _me_ , Malfoy. You want me to hurt you? Fine. I think I’d like to hear you _scream.”_ He brought his face closer to Scorpius’ and whispered threateningly. “What do you think it’ll take to force a scream out of you, Malfoy? Do you have any idea? Because I can’t _wait_ to find out.”

 

Scorpius bit his lip, but otherwise didn’t respond. Whatever James was going to do, Scorpius would bear it with grace. James seemed to study him for a moment, then he used both hands to shove the smaller teen away from himself. Scorpius hit the ground hard, cringing as his tailbone bruised itself against the stone floor. His throat ached from where the heel of James’ hand had momentarily dug into it mid-shove.

 

Scorpius didn’t bother trying to get to his feet. He stayed where he’d landed, legs sprawled wide and his hands behind him keeping him upright. His heart thudded in his chest as James walked over and sneered down at him. Scorpius just blinked up at him, his whole face open. He knew his emotions were written across his face: his desire for the Gryffindor, the pain from his fall, curiosity and anticipation for what James would do next. All of these mingled with a naive sort of trust; a faith that James wouldn’t hurt him beyond what he could take; a firm belief that James’ was in control.

 

James stared into Scorpius’ eyes. They were huge; they seemed to swallow the Slytherin’s delicate face. The trust and desire shining in that silver gaze unnerved James. He had done nothing to merit those emotions; nothing to feed or enforce them. There was no reason for them at all. Scorpius should be glaring at him. Or better yet, cowering. There should be fear and hatred and disgust stamped across that pretty face. It would make this so much easier if there was...

 

But easy or not, James wasn’t backing down. Not now; not when he was _so_ close to giving Scorpius exactly what he deserved that he could practically _taste_ it. He wanted to make Scorpius scream.

 

The first kick was so much of a surprise it barely hurt. Scorpius felt the pressure of it, then the throbbing ache. He stared in disbelief at his right thigh, where James’ foot had connected. The next kick hit nearly the same spot and the pain was instantaneous; it shot through his leg and had Scorpius cringing away before he’d even realized what he was doing. Because he moved, the next time James’ trainer connected it was with the back of his thigh rather than the side; just below his ass.

 

As pain blossomed and spread down his leg, Scorpius curled his body and squeezed his eyes shut. He began to pant, tears filling his eyes, but he still did nothing to defend himself. The next blow landed on his hip and sent pain shooting up his spine, as though it were traveling along the path of Scorpius’ bones. Scorpius wanted to cry out; his throat ached with the need to scream and plead. But no sound beyond breath left his lips and James didn’t seem to be giving up. A solid hit to his side had Scorpius’ back arching as tears ran down his cheeks and his mouth opened on a silent, agonized cry.

 

Suddenly James’ hands were on him, rolling him over. Once he was on his back again, Scorpius opened his eyes to stare up at the Gryffindor kneeling beside him. His whole body was trembling and the fury on James’ face did nothing to ease it. James’ hands curled into fists, then one slammed into Scorpius’ ribs. It was followed seconds later by another hit, then another. When he tried to curl into the pain that was making it hard to breath, James’ fists flew faster.

 

They pounded into Scorpius’ ribs, the soft, subtle curve of his belly, and the arms he was instinctively trying to protect himself with. James seemed almost mindless with rage; there was no rhyme or reason to the blows; no pattern. There wasn’t even consistent force. Some glanced off; others brought fresh tears to Scorpius’ eyes. He knew he’d be black-and-blue all over, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight James. He just wanted this poison - whatever it was - out of James’ system. Otherwise, there was no hope.

 

And then James was shoving Scorpius’ arms out of the way and straddling the Slytherin’s aching stomach, a snarl twisting his handsome face into something dangerous and cruel. Hands clenched in the fabric of Scorpius’ white uniform shirt and yanked him upright. With only a few inches between their faces, James’ spit hit Scorpius’ face as he snarled.

 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” He shook Scorpius hard for a moment, looking baffled and angry at the same time.

 

When Scorpius didn’t respond, simply staring at James, the older boy’s anger grew. He let go of Scorpius shirt with one hand, letting the boy slump backwards slightly, and used his free hand to backhand Scorpius again. The blonde’s head snapped to the side, his eyes fluttering shut momentarily. Then he glanced back over at James, eyes shining behind damp, sooty lashes. His full lower lip trembled, but there was still no anger or fear on his face; just the same openness and trust as before.

 

James backhanded Scorpius again. “Fight me, Malfoy! Defend yourself! Do _something!”_

 

Another backhand had Scorpius’ lip splitting against his teeth. He looked up from under the white-blonde fringe of his hair, his tongue coming out to soothe his lip. The coppery tang exploded over his tongue and his eyes darkened. Scorpius’ breath hitched in his chest and he licked his abused lip again. But he didn’t fight back; he didn’t defend himself. His arms remained at his sides and he stayed passive beneath James.

 

“You’re sick.” James managed, his voice coming out hoarse and desperate now. He shook the smaller teen, tears prickling _his_ eyes, and nearly-pleaded with him. “ _Dammit_ , Malfoy, tell me to stop!”

 

Scorpius shook his head and James growled. “Why not? Why won’t you stop me? Do you really _want_ me to hurt you?” When Scorpius just blinked up at him, his tongue darting out to slick over his abused mouth once more, James hissed in sudden understanding. “You just want me to make you scream. And you don’t care how I do it, do you?”

 

Scorpius dropped his eyes, his cheeks flushing pink. Then his whole body jolted when James leaned in and crushed their mouths together. His lip throbbed painfully as the break in the skin opened again. James’ tongue pushed into his mouth, bringing it with it another taste of Scorpius’ blood, as well as the taste of green tea and honey. As James’ tongue stroked against the roof of his mouth, Scorpius’ whole body sparked to life. His aching ribs, the throbbing of his mouth and cheek, the bruising of his leg and hip...none of it mattered any longer. James Sirius Potter was kissing him; that was the only thing he cared about.

 

James was on fire. His whole body burned as he devoured Scorpius’ mouth. He traced the straight line of Scorpius’ teeth, then curled his tongue to lick at the ridges on the roof of Scorpius’ mouth. The slim body beneath him arched as his hands streaked down Scorpius’ back. James’ hands tugged at Scorpius’ shirt, rucking it up and letting his fingers dance over pale, soft skin. Scorpius moaned into the kiss. The raspy, ragged sound was swallowed by James’ mouth, but Scorpius could feel the way it vibrated up from his throat and he knew it would have been audible if not for the lips covering his own.

 

James pulled back, panting heavily, and immediately busied his lips at Scorpius’ ear. His tongue traced the curve of it,  then he whispered heatedly. “I still want to make you scream...think I can?”

 

Scorpius shivered at the burst of hot breath over saliva-dampened skin, then nodded frantically. If he had to guess, then he’d say this was, in fact, James’ best shot at it. And he _wanted_ James to succeed. He wanted James to wring more sounds from him, regardless of how broken they were. Scorpius had given up on making sounds and he’d locked away the few he had left, keeping them hidden. He hadn’t even kept them for himself; he’d just tucked them away completely. And now, he wanted to give them - every last one he had - to James.

 

Maybe those sounds weren’t much; maybe they wouldn’t mean much of anything to most people. But Scorpius had a feeling he could trust James with them. That was why he was willing to risk this; to risk everything on the chance that he could be with James. Because if anyone could understand the value of what he was offering - the last vestiges of his voice, such as it was - then it was James. James, who had never wanted anything from him but this...the sounds he could still make. So he would give them to him, and he would do so willingly; happily; eagerly.

 

James laughed, a soft and nearly-breathless sound, as Scorpius nodded. He flicked his tongue against Scorpius’ earlobe, then dragged his teeth along the edge of the boy’s jaw. “You can’t be comfortable on the floor...not with as bruised as you must be. Want to move?”

 

Scorpius nodded again, wishing he could communicate better; wishing he had his slate and chalk in-hand to scrawl _‘Bed! Now! Please!’_ and about a million other things for James to read. But James seemed to understand him well-enough anyway, because he got up and crossed his arms over his chest, quirking an eyebrow and waiting. Scorpius’ lips twitched upwards just slightly; of course James wasn’t going to help him up. James was capable of gallantry – what Gryffindor worthy of the name wasn’t, after all – but this was too new for that; too raw. Scorpius accepted that.

 

Scorpius pushed himself to his feet, wincing and cringing as his movements made everything ache again. His right leg would barely hold any weight; it throbbed and pulsed with heated agony. His hip felt the same and his ribs screamed in protest every time he turned or bent; he had a feeling several of them might actually be broken. Gritting his teeth, Scorpius limped towards the bed; if he could just go back to lying down, the pain would be bearable again. He hadn’t made it more than two steps when the pain licking its way up and down his spine got to be too much.

 

His knee gave out as his thigh muscles spasmed and he closed his eyes, knowing he was about to hit the floor. Instead, James caught him, an arm around the blonde’s back keeping him upright. Scorpius’ eyes opened in surprise and he stared at James in shock as the Gryffindor slid one arm under his knees and scooped him up easily. James carried Scorpius over to the bed; he hardly weighed anything, after all. As he set Scorpius on the mattress, James noticed the gobsmacked expression on Scorpius’ face and blushed slightly.

 

A little defensively, James said. “What? I can’t be nice?”

 

Again Scorpius longed for his slate, which he’d left on the sofa across the room. Since he didn’t have it, he struggled to explain his surprise without words or voice. Scorpius shook his head, then tapped his chest, hoping James would understand what he meant.

 

The Gryffindor cringed, then muttered. “Not to you. Right. Never bothered before.” James blew out a breath, then said softly. “I’d apologize, but it got us here and I’m quite pleased with here, so...”

 

Scorpius’ lips twitched upwards again and he rolled his eyes. He hadn’t asked for an apology and he certainly hadn’t expected one. He didn’t even _want_ one. James wasn’t an entirely nice person. That was part of what Scorpius liked about him. He’d gotten nothing but saccharine-sweetness and pity since his accident; he was more than happy with James’ acerbic personality. Scorpius dropped his eyes slightly, still smiling, and tentatively patted the mattress beside him.

 

James grinned and growled softly. “Strip.”

 

Scorpius looked up, eyes wide once more. His breath caught as he realized James was following his own order. His shoes were kicked off and he was now working on his shirt. Scorpius swallowed hard, then immediately set his fingers to the buttons on his own shirt even as he toed off his trainers and socks. In a matter of moments, both boys were naked and Scorpius was panting heavily. He had never been naked with another person before...not in a _sexual_ way. Communal showers didn’t really count; it wasn’t like _this._ There was that whole unspoken rule about not looking that didn’t apply here; now. Scorpius wasn’t just _allowed_ to look, he was _expected_ to look.

 

So, eagerly, Scorpius let his eyes wander over James, taking in the tanned skin stretched taut over Quidditch-honed muscles. Shoulders that were broader than most sixteen year old’s, lickable abs, narrow hips, strong arms, and toned thighs...Scorpius wanted to lick every inch of James’ delectable body. James was completely unabashed in his nudity. He smirked and quirked an eyebrow as Scorpius’ gaze moved over him and Scorpius couldn’t blame him for his confidence; it was well-deserved. Silver eyes followed the small trail of dark hair beneath James’ navel down to where it grew thicker; denser.

 

Nestled there - and currently standing proudly at attention - was the part of James that Scorpius currently wanted the most. James’ cock was as gorgeous as the rest of him. Long, thick, and with a slight curve to the right, it made Scorpius’ mouth water. The engorged flesh twitched slightly under his intense gaze and Scorpius licked his lips, wishing his mouth wasn’t so tender...he wanted to taste James. He flicked his eyes up to meet James’ gaze and froze.

 

James was still smirking, but now his eyes were moving over Scorpius. Scorpius’ skin prickled under the intensity of that stare. James had never given much thought to what Scorpius would look like without clothes on prior to the incident in the library a few weeks early. And what he’d decided during that time didn’t even come close. He had, of course, expected that pale, creamy skin. But he hadn’t imagined that the rosy flush suffusing Scorpius cheeks would creep down his jaw and neck, spreading  across his shoulders and down his chest.

 

James had also begun to imagine Scorpius as looking similar to his cousin Hugo...long-limbed and bony and sharp; rather like his pointed, haughty face. Instead, Scorpius was soft. The Slytherin didn’t play Quidditch, or apparently exercise much, because despite being slender he had no muscle-tone. But he wasn’t skin-and-bones, either. He was sleek and smooth; alabaster skin over subtle-softness. Scorpius’ stomach had a gentle curve to it, from his groin to his slightly-prominent rib cage...it made James want to touch. His slender chest had just enough flesh that his ribs weren’t sticking out and his arms and legs were the same way; no bony elbows or knobbly knees on Scorpius Malfoy. Just long, graceful limbs.

 

James knelt on the bed, then nudged his way between those creamy thighs. Scorpius’ full mouth was slack and still-swollen; James felt a twinge of guilt at that. That twinge grew stronger as his palms moved from Scorpius’ knees up over his thighs and the right one flinched and spasmed under his hand. James’ eyes dropped to the skin beneath his hand; it was mottling with deep purple and dark blue, swelling faintly. The splotchy color under the skin spread up, blossoming across Scorpius’ hip. The same dark colors seeped into the skin over Scorpius’ ribs. All-in-all, it looked like a child had splattered paint across the alabaster canvas of Scorpius’ skin.

 

James kept his palm on the clenching muscles of Scorpius’ right thigh, using his other hand to trace lightly over the damage to Scorpius’ torso. His fingers pressed, questing, and Scorpius hissed and writhed under him as he found the damaged places. James’ brow furrowed as he considered. He adored the color splashed across the Slytherin’s skin, but he also wanted Scorpius to enjoy this next bit. Scorpius was eager, true, despite the pain, but that would most-likely change in an instant if James tried to hitch his leg up or put any pressure on the boy’s ribs. And he liked Scorpius eager.

 

James left off exploring Scorpius’ chest and held his hand out behind him, snapping. “Accio wand!” When the yew and dragon heartstring wand hit his palm, James instantly curled his fingers around it and brought it up to Scorpius’ face.

 

He aimed it at Scorpius’ mouth, then paused for a moment, still considering. Scorpius’ eyes crossed slightly as he looked at the piece of pale, slim wood aimed at his lips, then he brought his gaze to James’ and waited. James rolled his eyes and said softly. “Episkey.”

 

Scorpius’ mouth went hot for a moment, then ice-cold. When the sensation faded, Scorpius licked his lips and smiled, grateful when the movement no longer hurt. James’ wand danced along the edge of Scorpius’ jaw, then as Scorpius tipped his head back James dragged it lightly down the soft, vulnerable flesh of his exposed throat. When the wand reached Scorpius’ chest, James considered the wounds for a moment, trying to decide what to fix and what to leave.

 

Dragging the tip of his wand along the bruising on Scorpius’ ribs, James murmured softly. “Costarum sanentur.” He was pleased when the bruising didn’t fade, though from the look on Scorpius’ face, the spell had worked. “Better?”

 

Scorpius nodded; the pain in his ribs was gone, though he could still feel the dull ache that came from the bruising to his skin.

 

“One last thing...” James said, bringing his wand down to touch Scorpius’ right thigh where the damage was the worst. “Glacies tumentes.”

 

Again, the bruising remained. But the swelling disappeared and the muscles stopped spasming under the color-splashed skin. James’ lips curved upwards as he dropped his wand on the bed beside Scorpius’ head and ran his hand down the mottled flesh of Scorpius’  thigh. When he reached the younger boy’s knee, James pressed behind it, bending Scorpius’ leg until it was pressed against Scorpius’ chest. His smile morphed into a smirk as he studied the way it bared Scorpius to his view.

 

Scorpius’ felt his face flush as James’ stared down at a portion of his body no one had ever seen before. It was thrilling, if a bit embarrassing. Especially when he saw the lust darkening James’ eyes. James flicked the wrist of his free hand, murmuring a spell softly. It was a spell Scorpius - and probably every other boy over the age of fourteen - knew well and suddenly James’ fingers were glistening in the weak sunlight, coated in oil. His breath hitched as James wrapped that strong hand around his own cock, stroking swiftly.

 

James was panting, his eyes glued to the firm curve of Scorpius’ ass as he slicked himself. He considered prepping Scorpius, but he was feeling impatient. Still, James flicked his eyes to the Slytherin and demanded harshly. “Have you ever done this?”

 

Scorpius shook his head and James felt something dark and twisted loosen in his chest; he didn’t like the idea of someone else touching Scorpius. His voice lowering to a sultry purr, he asked. “Have you touched yourself?” He let go of his cock and pressed the tip of one finger against Scorpius’ entrance. “Have you slicked your fingers and slipped them in, imagining it was someone else? Pretending some guy was _fucking_ you?”

 

A soft whine left Scorpius’ mouth, high and cracked and thready. He nodded, his cheeks so hot they felt like they were on fire, them daringly mouthed a single word, slowly and clearly so James would be sure to understand it. _‘You.’_

 

James laughed and the sound was a little-bit cruel; it made Scorpius’ pulse jump. “You little _slut!_ I was slamming you into walls, hitting you, _choking_ you...and you were imagining me fucking you?” He backhanded Scorpius abruptly, making the blonde’s head snap sharply to the side. “You like me hurting you, don’t you, you filthy little whore?”

 

Scorpius turned his head back, his grey eyes damp and shining once more. But his cock was still hard and leaking, resting against his belly while his full lips parted, glistening damply when he ran his tongue over them. He locked gazes with James and nodded slowly. Then he arched his hips, pushing up against the slick digit still resting lightly against his entrance. He wanted James inside him more than anything. And he didn’t care if James hurt him; not with fucking, not with slaps and kicks, not with words. That just made it hotter, somehow; that dark, dangerous edge to James’ personality just made Scorpius want him more.

 

“Godric, you’re _gagging_ for it...” James hissed, desire thickening his words.

 

Scorpius felt James’ hand retreat, then something hot and thick brushed against his ass. It slid along the crack, then settled against his entrance. Scorpius had to remind himself to relax and breath as James began to push. The pressure was nearly unbearable and, for a terrible moment, Scorpius didn’t think it would fit at all. Then James’ lips came down on his, devouring his mouth. And then the hand James’ still had gripping behind Scorpius’ knee stroked up the back of his thigh, gently encouraging Scorpius to spread his trembling thighs wider.

 

Seconds after he complied, Scorpius’ body gave way to the insistent prodding of James’ cock. Scorpius let out a ragged moan as the head of James’ cock slipped through the tight ring of muscle, stretching him open further than his own fingers had ever managed to do. There was a faint burn, but mostly there was just pressure and stretching and the feeling of being _full,_ and it was perfect. James didn’t stop; didn’t pause to give Scorpius time to adjust. He just kept pushing forward, sinking into the tight, grasping heat of Scorpius’ body. Scorpius’ body didn’t just _let_ James in; it seemed to _pull_ him in. It was as though the smaller boy’s body was designed to take his cock. In a matter of moments, he was balls-deep inside Scorpius.

 

“Fuck, Scorpius...” James set his teeth to Scorpius’ pale shoulder, right where it met his neck, his hips jerking as Scorpius’ body rippled and spasmed around his cock. “Fuck, you’re _so_ tight...”

 

Scorpius’ spine bowed upwards, his hips rising to meet the shallow thrusts. The needle-sharp points of pain from James’ teeth blurred together with the sparking pleasure caused by the spot inside of him that James’ cock was just-barely brushing. His mouth opened and a strange, disjointed, staccato series of sounds began to spill out.

 

James released the skin he’d bit down on and laughed; the sound tickled Scorpius’ ears. “Merlin, I love when you make sounds...I love _making_ you make sounds.”

 

Determined to wring more of the delightful, shattered sounds from Scorpius, James pulled slowly out of the clinging heat of the teen’s body then thrust quickly back in. He was rewarded with a sound he thought would have been a keen, had it not shivered in and out of existence. But his goal was still a scream and, with that in mind, James continued thrusting into the pliant heat of Scorpius’ body.

 

Scorpius couldn’t keep still. As James repeatedly filled him, his cock was bumping the spot inside him that made his blood heat and spark. Everything in him shimmered brightly and his head thrashed from side-to-side. His left leg curled around James’ waist and his nails scraped down the sweat-slicked skin of James’ back. And then it got better, as James’ strong, calloused fingers curled around his prick and began to stroke.

 

“Do you like that, pet?” James crooned, his tongue tracing the shell of Scorpius ear as he braced his weight on one arm and kept pounding into the boy beneath him. “Let me hear how much...”

 

Scorpius’ whole body tensed; he felt like a spring, being wound tighter and tighter. And any second, he was going to snap, shattering into a million bright, glittering points of pleasure. He could feel it; feel the way he seemed to be cracking under the pressure, little fissures spreading through him. And he knew - he just _knew_ \- that it wouldn’t take much to push him that last little bit into oblivion. It was so close Scorpius could practically taste it. And he _wanted_ it; more than he’d ever wanted anything. He strained towards it, his nails biting into James’ shoulders, his hips arching up faster, his leaking prick twitching as James’ slick hand slid over him.

 

James could tell how close Scorpius was and he lifted his head, watching the younger boy’s face eagerly; he couldn’t wait to see ecstasy splashed across that haughty face. Heat was pooling low in James’ belly and he was determined to make Scorpius come first. With that goal in mind, James began to hiss. It wasn’t a skill he used often, unlike his brother who showed it off whenever possible, but he had it all the same. And the sibilance of Parseltongue had been known to have a specific sort of effect on people. James was hoping it would work on Scorpius.

 

It did. The dark, sensual hissing curled around Scorpius’ mind. His body jerked, and then he was spilling - hot and sticky and wet - over James’ fist and his own stomach. His body rippled and clenched around James’ cock, his back arched sharply, his nails bit deeper into James’ shoulders, and his head fell back. As his eyes went wide and dark, then rolled back in his head, his throat worked. Scorpius’ mouth was open, his face twisted as pleasure so intense it bordered on pain ripped through him, and James eagerly watched as Scorpius’ throat muscles rippled under the skin.

 

The sound Scorpius made wasn’t one most people could have put a name to. It was a bit like broken glass being dragged across a chalkboard; it didn’t even sound _human_. It was a shattered, shrill sound and it faded in and out. But James _loved_ it, because it was one no one else had ever made Scorpius make; it was _his_. His hips slamming faster and harder into the boy beneath him, James buried his face in Scorpius’ throat and groaned as he spilled himself inside of the smaller teen.

 

For several moments Scorpius clung to James, then his whole body went limp, his arms and legs falling away from James to thump softly against the mattress. James lifted his head slightly, blinking sleepily down at Scorpius. “You okay?” He murmured, feeling ridiculously soft towards the boy.

 

Scorpius smiled sleepily, his dark eyes half-closed, and yawned. Then he nodded sluggishly even as his eyes closed the rest of the way and his breathing became deep and even. James laughed softly, shaking his head, then rolled to the side. Scorpius followed him, curling around James’ warmth, and the Gryffindor smiled as he wrapped an arm around the tiny Slytherin’s waist. He yawned, feeling pretty worn out himself, and let himself drift off to sleep, feeling content and at peace for the first time in as long as he could remember.

 

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**_ Albus _ ** **_ Severus Potter’s POV:_ **

 

I don’t know that I understand Scorpius at all. Maybe it’s the fact that he can’t speak. Or maybe it’s just that he keeps so much of himself guarded because of it. Or maybe it’s just a Malfoy thing; I don’t really know. I do know that James wasn’t who I ever imagined him with. James _hates_ him. Or, you know, hated, I guess. It’s sort of hard to say what he feels now. My brother is strange and hard to figure out at the best of times. And I really don’t know _what_ to think about James and Scorpius.

 

Because here we sit, in my grandmother’s living room, and Scorpius is perched next to James and practically glowing as he scribbles away on his slate to Teddy. It’s Christmas day and he and James have been dating for a week now, though Scorpius has hinted that there was some sort of build-up to it that the rest of just missed out on. I don’t know if I believe him, and James doesn’t say one-way or the other whether it’s true or not, so it’s sort of like guessing no matter what. But it is what it is, I suppose. Anyway, they’re clearly together now and how fast it happened isn’t really the point.

 

But I don’t know how to feel about it. Not because I care who Scorpius dates; that’s his business. But I don’t like the bruises on his ribs and over his right hip, spreading down his thigh. He tried to keep them hidden, of course, but we share a dorm and a bathroom. And I _know_ James has a temper; I _know_ how violent he can become in a heartbeat’s time. He _is_ my brother, after all. I’ve been on the receiving end of that violence from time-to-time. But when I asked, Scorpius brushed my concerns off and now the bruises are nearly-gone; faded to a greenish-yellow. Of course, there’s sometimes a new one – on his thigh, on his cheek, on his upper arm – or other marks, like redness around his wrists or welts on his arse. But if I question him, he just smiles and waves me off. And I’ve got no proof they’re from James at all, really, just a feeling. A strong one…but still.

 

So while I think it’s great that Scorpius seems happy - and while I love my brother - I find myself watching them with suspicion. Because if James is hurting Scorpius – I mean _really_ hurting him – I’ll never forgive him. My best friend has been hurt enough in his life. I won’t stand for him being hurt again; not by anyone. Scorpius has noticed me watching, of course. And he just smiles softly and rolls his eyes, letting me know he understands my concern but that I shouldn’t worry.

 

I worry anyway.

 

James hasn’t noticed yet, but then, his eyes are always on Scorpius. Sometimes he stares at him so intently it’s like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. Other times, he watches him with a sort of tenderness that I don’t think I ever believed James was capable of. Those warm, soft looks always startle me a little. And other times, he watches Scorpius with a sort of dark, heated look in his eyes. I’d call it lust, but it isn’t. Or it isn’t _just,_ which is part of what worries me. After those looks, the two of them usually disappear for a while. I try not to think about where to, or why; thinking about James shagging my best friend makes me feel a little ill. And that’s _without_ factoring in the bruises and their possible causes.

 

And now I’m watching them from where I’m supposed to be hanging out with Roxy and Lucy and their boyfriends. My girlfriend - Araminta Zabini - is around here somewhere as well; I think she may have wandered off with Lily to discuss make-up or something. I really don’t care right this second; I’m busy watching for any sign that I need to kill my brother.

 

My entire mind is so focused on James that I almost miss it. I’m watching as he leans around Scorpius, towards Teddy, and says something with a smirk. Teddy’s eyes widen and his mouth falls open in shock, then he breaks into a wide grin and chuckles, his eyes crinkling up, while James keeps smirking. And that’s when _it_ happens. Something I couldn’t have imagined; not in a million years.

 

The sound is what catches my attention. It has me frowning, because I don’t recognize it. It’s a rusty, sharp, broken sort of sound. It reminds me a bit of a tin can being dragged across asphalt, in fact. It’s a stuttering sound as well; one that stops and starts sporadically. And it brings my eyes from James to Scorpius. His eyes are sparkling, his mouth is open, and it’s a moment later that I realize the sound is coming _from him._

 

Teddy is staring at Scorpius in amazement and Scorpius’ mouth snaps shut, his cheeks burning as his eyes drop to his lap. James’ face softens and he tips Scorpius’ face up, pressing a light kiss to Scorpius’ trembling mouth. Then, loudly enough for everyone to hear – which isn’t all that loud, as the room has fallen silent – James declares. “Don’t be embarrassed. I love your laugh.”

 

And Scorpius flushes a little darker, but breaks into a huge grin. And, in that moment, something that’s been wound tight in my chest since I first saw Scorpius’ bruises loosens. Because no matter what weirdness is going on in their relationship – and, really, it’s none of my business what that might be – it’s clear that Scorpius is happy, and that James loves him.

 

James made my best friend laugh. Out loud.

 

There’s not much I could ask for, for him, beyond that. Not much at all.


End file.
